


Moya Vanya

by RuthlessBallard



Category: Orange is the New Black
Genre: Family, Motherhood, Orange Is The New Black - Freeform, Past Abuse, Russian Mafia, kate mulgrew - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2019-06-20 07:30:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15529260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RuthlessBallard/pseuds/RuthlessBallard
Summary: A tough visitation with her son causes Red to reflect on her criminal past and the effect it has had on her children. Opening scene from Season 6. Warning: A lot of possible triggers in this story.





	1. Plexiglass

“You did this, Mamushka!” He hisses into the reciever “You put this glass between us!”

His finger thumps against the plexiglass. I look on with no words to say. He continues to rant as he thumps again and again against the clear barriar. I look down to see the large finger accusing me. His hands are like his fathers, large, stuby, warm and calloused. A lot of him comes from his father. He slams the phone down and stands to walk away. I want to argue and urge him to come back but all I can do is cry. Even through my tears I can tell he has beefed up and he lumbers slightly as he disappears from view. 

I place the phone back in its cradle as I bite back whimpers. I continue to look for him even though I know he is long gone.

“What are you talkin’ to a ghost!? Ass out of the seat when the conversation is done, Inmate!” A guard barks.

Fine. Let the little boy play big man. It means nothing to me.

I stand on shakey limbs and make my way back to my bunk in single file with the other women who finished their conversation early. I wipe my tears away for the time being and attempt to steady my breathing. I remind myself to hold it together until I get to my bunk. As much as I am aching they cannot see my fall apart. Not here. Not now.

I am not biting back tears because Dimitri has found a new woman. Frankly, its a relief to know that the expectation on loyalty is finally over not that I’m off to fall into the arms of another convict. But I think my marriage waiting on the outside was the final strand of normalcy I had left, perhaps that’s why I lost my temper. Dimitri is not and never will be a man I will cry over. But my boys, oh my boys know how to break their mother’s heart, especially Visaly. My Vasya. 

Every time I see him, I don’t see the father of two with worry lines framing his handsome face. I see the little squaking infant in my arms. He was a funny creature when he was born. I remember laying in the hospital bed as my son is placed back in my arms after he was bathed and bundled. He gurgled and emitted a small whimper.

“Shhhh I know moya lyubov’ I’m here. I’m here.” I cooed to him “You’re safe. You’re with Mama still, just in a different way.”

His eyes peaked open, large, unfocused eyes looked up at me in search for all the answers. His little fist next to his ear opened slightly as if he was about to hold up a finger and say “You have one chance to convince me.” His dark eyes, his large hands, his funny ears were all his father but the penatrating stare was all me. What a perfect moment for mother and son. Of course, that was when Dimitri leaned in to place a loud kiss against my ear and happily exclaim that he had won the bet against his friends on wether or not I could give him another boy. 

“Yes, Dimitri” I replied blandly “Nine months of sickness and fifteen hours of unrelenting agony was all so you could win a bet.”

He laughed loudly in reply, drunk from the celebratory drinks he had during my time in labor. In response, the baby began to cry.

I thank God above that Carol didn’t demand my attention when I returned to C Block. I made haste to my bunk and collapsed into my pillow. Hot tears burst through my barely contained control and I allowed myself to wallow in my son’s words. I realize as my tears soak the joke of a head rest that if any of my other children had accused me so harshly I wouldn’t be so shaken up. Hurt, absolutely. But no shaken so thorougly. I roll to my side and gaze upon the pictures of my grandchildren. I realize that Vasya has been a witness, a springboard and somewhat of a contributer to my life of crime.

My Vasya. It begins and ends with him.


	2. Prosti

The irony is in a criminal riddled country, in a crime heavy time, I was inactive in criminal activities for the most part. My first dip into rebellion wasn’t for the reasons of my peers like survival or a touch of power. No. My first rebellion was for love. I was eighteen, young and dumb, as we all were then. I worked in a factory and was dreaming of more, as we all did then. One day I was beckoned by a man who looked nothing like the men I interacted with. His hair was long, his hands were soft from lack of meniel labor, his smile was easy, and he spoke with a confidence that was quite alluring. Perhaps it was the dim lighting, the western tunes or the thrill of selling a product my suffocating government called “capitalist propaganda” that made me fall helplessly under his spell.

I sold blue jeans in dark allys and dingy basements with the smirking gentleman for six months. It was exciting and terrifying. I still shiver at the memory of Pavel pinning me against the wall of his apartment, in a sea of blue denim, feeling him pulsate inside me. “Dangerous girl” he would growl in my ear and I would howl like an animal in heat. I thought he was a power beyond anyones control. I thought he was fearless and it made me fearless. But as soon as the fantasy began it ended, it ended the moment I told him that my friend had gone missing selling his product and his only response was to tuck his tail behind his legs. He disgusted me but a part of me still loves him because he ignited a rebellion in me that keeps me alive to this day.

The girls I now reside along side with speak through pained breathes and shocked gasps after another beating from a guard. They are annoyed and shaken from another small man with a big fist. They call this prison and I call this life. The first time I really experianced the full effect of an unhappy man was when I was four. It was evening, shortly after supper and I was sitting on the kitchen floor watching my mother do the dishes. I loved the way her skirt billowed when she would move about her domain. 

My mother was grace. I still can’t help but feel smug that I was gifted with her long legs and nimble fingers. She was like a ballerina dancing about the soaking dishware. I was capitvated. As men do, my father interrupted such beauty. He burst through the door saying he had forgotten his hat. He looked down to his small daughter.

“Girl!” He called to me “Get your Papa his cap!”

I didn’t listen. 

“Girl!” He stated once more “Do as you are told!”

I didn’t respond. I was distracted by the moving waves in the fabric of my mothers skirt. Suddenly, I was wrenched up onto my feet and the waves of fabric were gone. The smell of alchohal filled my nostrils and steel orbs peered into mine. 

“Are. You. Deaf!?!” he rumbled like thunder

“Da?” my little voice replied. A good daughter always says yes to her Papa.

What I believed to be the only right answer was interpreted as back talk. Once again I was jostled and found myself flying across the room into Mama’s favorite chair by the window. As any toddler would, I began to cry. 

“Ruslan” my mother said queitly only to have her husband storm to her, blocking her into a corner. Even then I knew he was planning to make her pay for my mistake.

With percision impressive for a child my eyes immidiatly spotted the tattered cap laying on the ground a few feet from me. The pain radiating in my body as a sobbed I stood, snatched up the garmet and ran towards the towering giant. I pressed the cap agaist his leg.

“Prosti! Papa!” I bellowed “Papa! Prosti!”

He smacked me off. I stumbled back but persisited. Finally, he noticed me holding his cap up high above my head as I continued to cry out my apology. With trembling hands my mother took the cap from me and placed it on my father’s head.

“Prosti, Papa.” she repeated but with a different tone I didn’t recognize until I was a young woman.

He grunted. Turned without a single glance at his weeping daughter and his trembling wife then exited the home.

Even as the years have passed I remember it all so clearly. I was taught so much in a matter or two minutes. The fury of a man, the pain of fearing a parent and the the secret power of a woman. I don’t fear angry men, not anymore atleast because I know them well.

I didn’t know that Dimitri had any anger in him. He has always been so docile, he stuck to the rules as if they were his religion. Or so I thought. He found me walking to work, dejected and humbled after my time with Pavel. He was soft and kind as usual but what surprised me was when his demeaner darkened when he hinted towards his plans of espionage. He had contacts, contacts who were willing to fake jewish passports to get him to America. What he had to pay to get that kind of papaerwork is still beyond my imagination. He wanted to take me but only if I agreed to marry him.

“We can go seperate ways when we get there.” he promised.

Something inside me knew it would not be the case but I jumped at the chance. We married in the courthouse the next day and made out escape in the dead of night a week later. Months later, we were in Rome where we would be taught English while our papers were being processed. As we lay in the dark of our shoebox of an apartmanet listening to the sounds of the lost souls outside our window, Dimitri would tell me of how he silently watched his government starve and toy with the people he loved. He spoke of lying on employment reports so factory workers would not be punished for tardiness due to illness or age. He spoke of how he was trained to mentally trick employees into admitting fault not of their own in order to keep everyone in line. His large hand would grip my hip as he darkly recalled all what he had seen. His anger was not obvious but ever present. His anger brewed deep within the confines of his heart. He was furious but it was so carefully controlled. He would take a deep whiff of my hair before telling me of watching a mouthy redhead from afar and living with the fear that one day an officer will decide to “teach her what is decent” once and for all. He had sweet talked officers out of many planned “lessons” only to later have to the red head scoff at his advances and ignore him completely.

“Prosti” I whispered to him

He replied by pulling me deeper into his embrace. Comforting me. Forgiving me.

“Prosti, Dimitri” I repeated with tears in my throat.

“Gal…” he began before I silenced him with a kiss.

Men who are angry love apologies from women who are stubborn. Men who are furious are aroused by tears, especially when they are sincere. I know this to be true because that is how we brought most of our children into this world.

This including the child who left ne weeping in a visitation phone booth.


	3. Red Tea

I press a finger against the groove in the concrete beside my bed, with slight pressure I slide my finger up to the metal slat that begins my bunkmates bed. I like the feeling of the rough mineral grating against my flesh. The twinge of pain I feel when I move my finger a little too fast is almost comforting. It’s honest. It lets me know exactly what my parameters are in one simple sensation. I like honest. Though, when we really mull it over, honesty isn’t as black and white as we make it up to be. Its messy. 

When my second born pressed his large finger against the glass accussing me of seperating us, should I have been honest? What should I have been honest about?

Perhaps, I should be honest enough to tell him that he has the luxury for his skin to press against a smooth, kind, forgiving surface and able to walk away once he’s done vomiting hate towards his mother. 

Perhaps, I should be honest enough to tell him that the parent he’s so devoted to, the parent who, according to my son, is the epitome of family loyalty was too weak to protect his wife. 

Perhaps, I should tell him that though I agree I am held in captivity for mistakes that I have made that it is not for the reasons he believes they are.

The first year in America was difficult to say the least. We struggled to find jobs, we struggled to keep jobs, we struggled to eat, we struggled to live. As Russians, it wasn’t to far off from life before but at least then we had familiar faces and culture to depend on. But over time we proved ourselves as dependable employees to slowly earn enough to survive, then enough to live and finally just enough to save. Dimitri became close friends with the one other Russian in his road gang six months after our move into States life. He told us of “Little Russia”, a tiny neighborhood in a shady part of town. We would have to sleep with our savings underneath our pillow and be wary of constant police patrols but we would have friends close by. We would finally have a little corner to fit in, in an opportunistic but unforgiving country.

We found our courner and we became ourselves again. Well, for the most part.

I don’t know if I ever loved Dimitri. As the father of my children and the man who helped me escape, of course there is adoration. He really did become my family and my friend. But love as in romance? No. I never loved him. I was never really attracted to him either. It wasn’t his looks that put me off really. It was his inability to grow, to become something better. It seemed the minute we were somehow able to finally get a stable home and a weekly burger in his belly the fire in him was gone. His fury was gone. One day I looked up at him from the kitchen table and knew the man who gently squeezed my hand as we were allowed to pass the U.S. border had died long ago. He never had to look like an Adonis or fuck like its his profession. That’s not important. But I need fire. I need heat. I need passion and he lost it for it never to come back.  
But Ganya, oh Ganya. He was fire and fury and fear and agony and passion. He was a power that could be so consuming. People would speak his name in Little Russia under hushed breathes but you could still hear the rumble of power carrying his name. I was nothing and he knew I was nothing but he still found me intriguing. I think it’s because I could keep eye contact with him and I was probably the first woman not willing to talk to him about the petty distractions they expect us to love.

He entered our business door before we could even unpack a box. There were rules to be set and he didn’t have time for pleasantries. Dimitri was plopped down on a milk crate in our back room and I was shooed off to make tea. As I stood by the kettle with my finger nervously tracing curve of a tea cup, I eyed the men surrounding my husband. From what I could hear, they kept it simple. They were on top and we were nothing. They would have a hefty cut of all our profits and if we pay up there will be no issue. If we fail to give them the money there will be issues, issues we never want. Half a world away and there we were still nervously answering to men we probably had a drink with in our school days, who would now happily break our legs and eat our food.

The kettle whistled and I turned away but could feel someone watching me. Piercing blue eyes burning a whole into my back. Nervously, I set up the tea cups and pour in the steaming liquid. I was just about done placing the cups onto the the tray when I heard footsteps behind me. I turned and yelped.

I do not yelp.

Ganya towered over me. He gave me a half-smile. 

“Can I help you?” I asked, weakly attempting to bite back the annoyance in my voice.

“What is your last name?”

“Rezni…”

“Maiden.”

We stared at one another for a moment as we sized one another up.

“Nikovnova”

His half-smile grew into a full grin.

“Your brother. He’s studying at Tomsk?”

“I…yes. How do you know this?”

“Your brother was a school mate of mine. My Uncle is a professor at the University.”

I simply nodded, unsure of his motive.

“Your mother allowed me to join you for supper a couple times when my parents were arrested. I remember you were fiery back then.”

I softned at the memory of my quiet, caring mother. My trance broken when he leaned in and a puff of his breath brushed against my skin.

“….glad to see it has not left, little Galya.”

I shuddered.

“Tea my dear?” Dimitri called to me

Galya plucked a cup from its saucer and took a long sip, never breaking eye contact.

“Mmm red tea” he hummed “I do enjoy red.”

With he turned and walked away. In that moment, I knew I had been marked. I knew Galya had picked up a brush to change the color in my life in large strokes. I just wish, even more so now, that my colors didn’t have to bleed onto the canvases of my boys as well.


	4. Barely There

My affair with Ganya did not start immidiatly, it was a long time in the making. It began with simple glances during their meetings in our store. I would busy myself with the millions of tiny tasks that kept our joke of a business running and listened to the scraps of conversation I could hear. Dimitri so desperately tried to be a big strong business man but his ideas would fall on deaf ears. The poor man, he never had the brain for business, at least that kind.

I wasn’t to keen on having the men hold meetings in our store, my domain. But I had fallen pregnant with Vasya and we were so low on money. Ganya knew we couldn’t pay, usually this would lead to an unsavory fate but our ruler felt benevolent the day we stood in the kitchen before him. 

“Please” Dimitri pleaded in such a small voice “My beautiful Galya, she’s pregnant with our second. I can’t have her on the streets.”

To make his point, Dimitri took my hand and gently tugged me forward. Ganya took a step forward to examine my pale face only to have his eyes drop to my full bosom. 

“Is this true?” Ganya asked 

“Would you like to consult the vomit in my flower garden?” I retorted

Dimitri squeezed me hand tightly, scolding my for me obstinance. Ganya chuckled.

“My shoes have fallen to Nadya’s sickness as well”

“A baby for you!? How wonderful!” Dimitri exclaimed a little to loudly.

Ganya didn’t even glance over. His eyes bore into mine. 

“When do you become a mother?”

“I already am a mother.” I reply coldly, raising an eyebrow. Daring him.

He smiled. My mind flicked over to my first born napping upstairs. I wanted to be with him and not standing in a hoard of grey faced men, pretending not to stare at my chest.

“That you very much are. I mean for a second time.”

“May.”

“May” he repeated softly before finally glancing over to Dimitri “Usually, I would have to cut off your finger and ransack this hovel. You are very late on your payments, Dimitri.”

My husband drew in a breath. I scrapped my teeth over my bottom lip to hide its trembling.

“But..” Ganya continued as his voiced softned once more “I will make any acception.” 

I stiffin suddenly as a large hand is placed on my barely budding abdomen. I begin to pull away but my husband pulls me forward once more. I felt so exposed as my husband allows this man to caress his thumb against the fabric of my blouse.

“Mamushka” Ganya addressed me as he held me in place “You will make us some tea and then you will go upstairs to rest. No more stress for the baby today.”

With my order issued, The King gestured his crew to the front of house with a flick of the wrist. The men bustled out. Dimitri was the last to leave, he snatched up a bottle of Vodka to toast. He reached the door before turning back, returning to me to place a chaste kiss on my lips.

“Everything will be ok” he assured before leaving with a smile.

I was left standing alone in a kitchen shaking. A sob emitted from my lips as I placed hand where my baby nestled, my Vasya. I know he saved our lives that day. But we had to sell our souls. Did Dimitri have any idea what he did when he allowed Ganya to place his hand against me? My Vasya was only a little ball and a flickering heartbeat. He was barely even there when his father had failed in protecting him. 

Silently, I wept, my tears trickled down as I made tea for the first of hundreds of meetings held in our store. With these meetings our family would slip further and further into the grips of Ganya’s gang. With these meetings, my fall began, it began with Ganya’s hand pressed against my barely there Vasya.

My Vasya. My poor boy. We failed you.


	5. Pop

Pop.

The resounding sound of a cherry flavored Tootsie Pop exiting Carol’s mouth. I wonder how the woman still has all her teeth. The mother in me wants to chide her for the copious amounts of sugar she ingests in a single day but the inmate in me knows to keep my mouth shut.

“Dumb bitch nearly used all the hot water.” Carol sneers slapping down a playing card “I swear I’ll knock her teeth in.”

“Hot water is like gold.” I add

“If I’m here till I die then I deserve a good steam.”

Pop. Slap.

“You know what sounds like heaven?’

“Mm”

Slurp. Pop. Slap.

“A hot bath.”

A hum of agreement reverberates around our small table of hardened inmates once who, once again, are being murdered by Carol in a game of Backgammon.

“When my boys would go to bed, and Dimitri was off who knows where…” I continue wistfully “I would drawl a steaming hot bath and just soak. I swear pains I’ve had since my days at Lichkichov melted away.”

“I can live without a soak” the large inmate who once tore my book in half added “But to just once be able to shit in silence on a can not made out of metal would be amazing.”

“I grew up without running water” the asian woman to my right chimed in “I can handle the bathroom. But I would give my soul for a king-sized mattress with giant body pillows.”

“Its inhumane!” I agree “We’re sleeping on hamburger patties and shitting on freezing tin. Soon we’ll stop shiving eachother and start shiving ourselves out of madness!”

Carol lets out a snort. A large compliment coming from the stone faced lifer.

“You’re crazy Reznikov. I like it.” Carol says with a final slap of the card “I win. Yin. Reshuffle.”

~

I was seven months along, lumbering about my kitchen when Ganya entered to greet me.

“You’re here early” I noted tersely

“Ahead of schedule” he shrugged

I pretended to not care when he plucked a carrot from my pile of vegtables I was busy peeling. I could feel his eyes on me. 

“Dimitri?” he inquired before crunching into his snack 

I shrug. It was an attempt to act nonchalant but also because I stopped caring about where my husband scurried off to long ago.

“I assume he will be back soon. He is grating and dull but he is at least punctual.”

I let out a snort.

“My wife is never punctual. She drags her feet.”

“But is she dull?”

He looks down and our eyes meet. We hold one another’s gaze. It is then Vasya gives me a hardy kick in the ribs. I let out a gasp and press a hand against my side. 

“This boy is trying to kill me” I grumbled

“What makes you think its a boy?”

“If it was a girl she would be on my side.”

Ganya let out a hardy laugh. 

“Oh I believe he will be very much on his mother’s side. He’s strong. You will understand eachother better.”

“You’ve been very interested in the baby since the start. Why? It won’t come from a good family. Babies are uninteresting to men until they grow up to be men themselves.”

“Human nature. I can’t help but be curious about what is around me.” Ganya said with a shrug before leaning in “Much like yourself. I see you hanging about, trying to listen into our meetings.”

My face felt hot and I was frozen. One does not simply eavesdrop in the matters of business. Yes, they have their meetings in the open. Yes, voices carry. But if their business plans are leaked then there will be hell to pay. Wether from the enemy or from them, innocent blood will be spilt. It is not a light matter. The reason their business is held in public is a very careful tactic. On one hand, it is a symbol of how many fucks they don’t give. They are having a top secret meeting in broad daylight because they KNOW you won’t listen because you KNOW what they will do to you if you do. It has worked that ways for hundreds of years. That is how powerful they are. On the other hand, its a vetting process. Can we trust you to host us and not turn us over to the police or our rivals? If we can trust you with that, what else can we trust you with? 

With him acknowledging he knew of my eavesdropping, he acknowledged I was not trustworthy. 

“What do you think?” he asked

“What?”

“Should we expand our presence North or deepen our grips in the West?”

“Please….wait till after the baby is born to kill me. He didnt ask….”

“I didn’t ask you about killings” he interjected sternly “What I want to know is if we should expand?”

The air felt as thick as stew. Vasya picked up his movements as my heart rate accelerated. I stare up at him looking for a sign. I searched desperately for what angle he was going for but he gave me nothing. He remained in place, leaning against the counter awaiting my reply.

I knew If he wanted me dead then I am already dead. 

If I give him what he wants” I think to myself “If I dance along with him, then maybe he will be amused enough to let my baby live.”

He shifts growing impatient.

Dimitri doesn’t even know how to change a diaper.

“Neither” I reply

“I don’t sit still.”

“I didn’t say sit still. I just said neither.”

He appeared to be taken aback and said nothing.

“How many arrests have we had in the past week? Three? Your boys are getting messy. They’re bringing attention to our neighborhood.”

“They are young…they are family.”

“Then treat them as such! Make them want to work for you to be away from the drugs not to pay for them. Payment is not the only loyalty they need.”

“So what? I coddle them? I read them bed time stories? Your mind is warped with lullibies and pacifies to even….

“Don’t be demeaning!” I spat

I squared up to him, our faces half an inch apart before I continued through a hiss.

“You wonder so desperatly where your money has gone? Why your name is weaning? It’s disappearing into the noses and veins of your boys. They maybe as stupid as a goats but they still have use. Two came into this store the other day. One came in the morning to tell us to pay you Suday and then the other comes in at night to demand we pay right then. They were aimless. But both times we were terrified. We were obidient. They know what to do but they need to be a united front.”

He continued to stare at me in shock.

“Shake them, Ganya!” I continue “Get them all together and shake them to their core! Weed out the weaks and make them know exactly where they stand. Shake them until there is nothing but their undying loyalty. Then go out and shake us. By then you won’t have to step foot in any direction because everywhere they will feel the reverberations of what you have done.”

The bell rung.

My husband’s voice filled the front of the store and the laughter of Ganya’s goons bounced off of the cheap linoleum. To the sound of laughter of weak men, a searing kiss was placed upon my lips.

I should have shoved Ganya away. I should have slapped him for being so forward with an unsuspecting housewife who certainly was not his. But I did nothing of the sort. In fact, I kissed him back. I reveled in the demanding yet unassuming way he molded his mouth against mine. I took absolute joy in the way his large hands braced my head, demanding my attention, my lust. Not to keen of being the third wheel , Vasya shifted once more and his bony knee alerted the gentleman pressed so close to me of his presence.

Ganya pulled away and I bit back a whine. 

“Crazy woman” he murmured “but I like it.”


	6. Oats and Jewels

Dimitri was and is always kind. Oblivious at times, yes. But he truly is kind. We had experienced roughly the same childhood and had parents with roughly the same beliefs. I don’t know why I live in this world so broken, so harsh, so calculating and he so…kind. With that said, there is a mean streak in him that will show with no warning. Through the simple tension he can weild, it almost borders on cruel.

My pregnancy with Vasya wasn’t difficult really but the world around us was. Despite him shoving me under Ganya’s gaze and playing dumb when the men would oggle my impressive bossom during meetings, Dimitri was dotting. He would put up with the hormonal outbursts and never chastised me for the random crying fits. He would massage my aching muscles and would so earnestly tell me how beautiful I was as my self-confidence faultered as I grew. He was so kind and patient. He was perfect, all the way up to the last moment.

Of course, Dimitri and his timing.

It was in the early morning hours and I was baking as I always did. All our pasteries had to be fresh that day and made with no shortcuts. That is what brought fancy business men to our store instead of a shop near by work. Our pasteries were becoming a hidden gem and it was becoming a part of my identiy and my sanity. I was standing over a tray of pirozhkis when I felt the first tightening. For a moment, I thought it was gas but once you had your first you know the drill. I wasn’t worried but I knew to be aware. 

An hour and a half later, Dimitri trundled down the stairs. His hair messy and his eyes bleary. I knew not to say anything and to just hand him his coffee. I knew he would be pretty much worthless for the next fifteen minutes so I simply placed his breakfast before him.

“I will be gone until very late tonight.” Dimitri finally said, signaling he had finally awoken.

“Your baby may need you tonight.” I replied, warning of his son’s impending birth.

“Ganya ordered, Galya.” His tone was icy despite his sleepy voice.

“I might need the car.” I replied slowly.

“You? Drive?” he mocked.

I can whip up a delicious feast out of a potato and handful of crumbs but my ability to maneuver a car is less to be desired.

“Dimitri I have pain. The baby is….tightening.”

We looked to one another across the flour dusted table. My husband. My partner. My saviour. He was just a foot across from me but by the bored look he wore, he might as well been a million miles away.

“The baby, Dimitri.” I repeat “It might be time.”

“It takes hours. Call one of the wives.”

“I don’t talk to the wives.”

“That’s not my fault! You know I can’t ignore Ganya’s orders!”

“I know! I just….” my voice trailed off as once more a warmth rippled in my lower abdomen. It wasn’t exactly painful but it held a promise of what was to come. Suddenly, I felt his touch and realized Dimitri had made his way to me as I was lost in my anxious thoughts.

“Galya” he said softly, cupping my face “My strong and brave Galya…”

I gave a weak smile before he continued.

“Babies take time to get here. This job is very important and can only happen once. I can’t have today be about you.”

My heart turned to ice before the rest of my body ignited into white hot fury. How could he not be getting this? It’s not like we hadn’t been through it before. I wasn’t asking him to oversee the delivery for Christ’s sake! I simply wanted him to be willing to be available to get his wife to the damn hospital!

“It’s about the baby!” I spat before smacking his hands off me.

“I don’t have time for this!” Dimitri barked before snatching the keys off the counter and grabbing his jacket.

“That’s right go!” I screamed after him “Go off to your little job! Tell your first born how you allowed his mother to die alone in childbirth!”

He was gone before my sentence was through and I lost myself to the tears. 

~

I watch her from afar, my eyes peeking over the horizen of my book. She swivels the mop in her hand with expertise. I forget she was on clean up duty before back at the camp. I like her bangs, it adds to her angelic face but they hide her ever expressive eyebrows. I do love the way her eyebrows shoot up when she’s making a point or scrunch along with her expression when she’s working through a connundrum.   
It’s funny. I think I miss camp more than I miss home. I mostly just miss the guards accepting that my girls are my girls and I can be as affectionate as I wish with them, especially with Nicky. I’m pretty sure when shivering drug addicts stopped smuggling in heroine after they were taken under my wing, for once, they knew to back off. I feel so stunted not being allowed to be affectionate. 

In the moments I steal when Nicky drops by during her cleaning, I savor the feel of her skin as I cup her chin to examine those tired puppy eyes. Her warmth reminds me she’s real. She reminds me that my heart is still beating and my heart beats only to be a mother.

I don’t like the way Carol treats her girls. I understand she’s not set as the mother, only the boss, but I see so much potential in all the women around her. If she would ease on the suffocation and allow the loyalty to grow from respect her team could be so much more powerful. That said, I enjoy the darkness she brings out in me. I can’t lie. I’ve always had my darkness brewing just below the surface, carefully controlled. But Carol, oh Carol, she has no shame for her darkness. She wears it like a badge of honor. She grins when I admit my fury and laughs at my jabs to authority. She awakens me like Pavel did but in a different way.

I imagine that the light and darkness within us not as the projective beams on stainglass as they teach us in churches and temples. I imagine that the light and darkness we witness stains us. We are marked by what we know, what we see and very much by what we do. I am inked by the wrong I have done. The darkness is splattered in layers across the walls of my heart, those splatters were what I did for Ganya and for my survival. But there are glints of light, glittering jewels hidden here and there in the crevasses, those are my children.

I wish my heart could be beautiful. I wish it could glimmer and glow with gold encrusted walls of all the good I have done, causing my jewels to shine even brighter. My heart could have been a cathedral where God would have been able to smile upon. That will never be the case. My heart is a hidden cave, it is dark and it holds no glory. My gems do not sparkle in the light because the light is rare but they have a glitter none the less. My darkness is there because of my children but because of my children my darkness will never be all there is. 

~

My very first jewel came titering down the stairs, rubbing his sleepy eyes after his mother’s yelling had woken him up.

“Mamaushka?” he said with his little voice filled with sleep like his father’s but without the malice.

I attempted to fight off my tears before he noticed but the fight with Dimitri was too fresh. 

“Why are you crying?” he asked softly

His little arms wrapped around my leg, he pressed himself close to me, he looked up to me with large questioning eyes. He had my eyes, my button nose and his father’s quiet disposition. I looked down at those chubby hands grasping at the fabric of my skirt. I love Yuri’s hands. I could never say why exactly. They were just always so expressive for such a stoic boy. 

“Well” I say with tears in my throat “We have a very busy day today and I guess your Mamushka was overwhelmed.”

“Over..ovewh..”

“Overwhelmed. It means scared for how much you have to do.”

Yuri released a small giggle. 

“Mamushka” he lightly chastised as he burrowed his button nose into my thigh “You don’t get scared.”

Despite my frustration, I couldn’t help but smile at my son’s unwavering faith in me. I ran my fingers through his soft blond hair and enjoyed my last quiet moment with my first born. I ushered him to his seat at the table and prepared his breakfast. As my tears began to dry I poured hot water over dry oats, I watched the grain slowly melt into edible mush and said goodbye to looking at the sleepy toddler as my only son. I place a steaming bowl of oats and a glass of milk infront of my toddler. He eats and I continue my baking. He tells me about his dreams, the spider on the wall and the many other issues concerning him that morning. I add nothing until I feel he had his fill.

 

“I need you to be a very good boy today, Yuri” I said sternly

“Why?”

“Today is going to be very busy for your Mumushka”

“Why?” 

God bless this age. So curious and yet so annoying.

“Your little brother has informed me that he would like to join us.”

Yuri scrunched his his face in deep thought.

“Today?”

“Yes. Today.”

“When?”

“Not sure.”

“Before toons?”

I smiled. I want to trap him in this moment. I want him frozen in time, gripping his spoon in his tiny fist, unaware that his mother’s undivided attention will no longer completely his, allowed to cry when hurt and dance when happy, unburdened by the weight of the world. My Yuri.

“No. I think you have time for toons. Bring your bowl to me.” 

Yuri shimmis down from his stool and clumsily handles his dishes. 

“Dobroye utro” he says gleefully when he makes it to me, I wipe the remnants of his breakfast from his mouth.

“Dobroye utro” I reply as he places a wet kiss on my cheek before jetting off to the living room to switch on the television.

A lively voice informs us of the next great product happily from the little brown box, a car rumbles by to its morning commute and my back spasms once more with a contraction.

~

Carol knows her place and keeps it. I respect it. Though once I finished trembling in that salon chair, knowing I wasn’t about to be beheaded by rusty scissors, I realized how childlike this woman is. I enjoy ranting with her about the failure of family. Both my biological and prison family has abandoned me. It leaves me breathless with quiet sobs in the dark of the night. But for me when I rant and rave its only letting off steam. I’m simply letting out the pain before it eats me alive. But with Carol, she allowed her emotions to devour her years ago. In my time, I found purpose. My kitchen. My girls. In her time, she just found more isolation. Her rivaling sister. Her barely together gang.

Perhaps that is why I’m drawn to her. Despite us only being five to ten years apart in age, I feel she needs a mother, and here I am. It’s my purpose.

It’s not just her childlike behavior that worries me. It’s her lack of ingenuity. When something fails she tries to fix it by repeating the same tactic but with more force. No wonder this place holds no life. It’s the same day repeated but each day is more painful. Thankfully, my ingenuity keeps her happy and keeps me to her side.

Ingenuity. It has kept me alive so far.

~

My knuckles were white as I gripped my dressor, releasing a strangled cry. It was late. Very late. I had spent the day cleaning about the house and keeping myself busy. The store remained closed. Thankfully, our regulars were aware of our impending child and would understand our momentary absence. A handful of hours before, when the pain began to pass my ability to act normal and hold myself in an upright position, I brought Yuri to stay with the Babushka across the street. She did not look pleased but took pity on the sweat stained woman pleading on her doorstep. She took Yuri’s hand and dismissed me with a half-hearted “good luck” before slamming the door in my face.

I never wanted my mother more in my entire life.

I hobbled back to our home and waited for my wayward husband to return. Somewhere nearing ten or so I heard our back door slam along with heavy footseps.

“Galya!” he called to me

“He….HERE!” I called back

Dimitri appeared in the doorway shortly. He was breathless and deshevled. I almost felt relieved until I noticed the blood stains on his shirt.

“What….what did you do!?!” I asked hoarsly

“The job…it worked…but things got…”

“Stop!”

I couldn’t hear it. I didn’t want to. I would have chastised him but I was hit by another wave of agony. I doubled over.

“Get. Me. To. The. Car.” I demanded through gritted teeth.

“Galya we can’t we…”

“Now.”

“I know your…”

“NOW!”

Knowing he was never going to win, he appeared by my side. We had slowly made our way down the stairs when suddenly we were bathed in blue and red. The sound of radios and sirens echoed in the night.

“Your car?” I whined

“No. But they may have seen me speeding back.”

Once more I was smacked by another wave. 

“I hate you!”

“I know moya lyubov”

“I hate men!” 

“I know moya lyubov”

“Take off your shirt.”

“What?”

“Do it!”

Dimitri removed his shirt. I snatched it, bunching it in a ball before placing it between my legs. We hobbled out into the night air. A group of cop cars filled the streets. 

“Sir, we need you to return to your home!” an officer barked to Dimitri

“You don’t understand…” Dimitri began before he was cut out by my cries.

“Oh Jesus” the officer groaned

“I need to get her to the hospital” Dimitri pleaded

“I…I don’t think I…” the officer sputtered

“Evans! Maybe you should go handle the looky loos” A mans voice said from somewhere to my right.

It was hard to tell. By then my vision was tunneling and my patience was gone.

“What’s your name?” a gentle voice said in my ear

I wanted to form words. Any words. But my breath had been stolen and I could function no more.

“Its ok. You don’t have to tell me. Do you understand english? Nod if you do.”

Weakly. I nodded.

“Great. I need you to just walk a little bit more. There is an ambulance near by.”  
I was lost in another wave. I began to cry.

“Hey its ok. You’re going to be ok. You know why?”

I shook my head.

“Because that baby needs to enjoy those amazing pastries with my son Joey and I. You really brighten up our Sundays. So I’m going to make sure you’re ok.”

Peeking my eyes open I some how gurggled out. 

“Who….wh..you?”

“I’m Eddy ma’am. Captain Eddie Caputo.”

At 11:17pm, Vasily Dimitriovich Reznikov entered the world in an ambulance, surrounded by cops who were investigating the murder they had no idea his father was a part of. They didn’t bother to check the shirt I had bunched between my legs. It was discarded quickly. Shortly after Vasily was born we were whisked off to the hospital. Dimitri and his murder crew toasted to the healthy birth of his son, the cops joined in. They sang a couple drinking songs and toasted for many more Reznikovs to come. 

On the ride to the hospital I held my Vasily to my chest. He mewled and stretched out his little arms. He reached for me and I prayed that he would never stop reaching for me. My prized little jewel. My Vasya.


	7. A Price

I had been in prison for nearly a year when I found myself wrapping my body around another. 

“You’re so beautiful” he moaned

I ignored his kind and passionate compliments. I didn’t want them. I didn’t deserve them. We fumbled in the dark as we made a hasty attempt to answer our bodies demands. Clumsily, I tried to find my footing as I am pressed against the wall. The smell of disinfectant and mop water filled my nostrils. 

“I’ve wanted this.” he said as if a tryst in a storage closet is what he had dreamed of since he was a little boy.

“I know.”

I never threw myself at Sam Healy, it was never my active intention to seduce him. But I would be lying to say that I was adamant to ignore his advances or never allowed his touch to linger when I would hand over my crew’s time sheets to him at the end of the week. He would watch me so carefully and found every excuse to be near. He was like a puppy. I admit I enjoyed it. It was a small part of this new world that made sense to me and reminded me that I was not only a person but a woman. We moved and adjusted as we attempted to reach our goal. Somehow we found a pace and he hits a sweet spot. In a sharp breath, I cursed in my native tongue.

“Yes! Talk Russian!” he growled

“I…don’t know what…”

“Anything!”

I murmur a couple curse words until the moment Dimitri’s face flashed before my mind’s eye and once more I’m making love to my new husband in Rome. Once more, I’m making love to a kind guard who’s in love with a fantasy. I choked on air as I peak. I hear me say it.

“Prosti” I whimpered

He becomes undone. He clutched onto me and in the dark I allowed my tears to fall. He cradled me and I found myself trembling. He kissed me lightly. He stroked my hair. Sam is a good man but he lives in the clouds. He felt as though he was cradling a caged bird when in reality he had copulated with a monster. I could paint the closet walls with the blood on my hands and he had no idea. Or worse. He didn’t care.

 

Prosti.

 

~

 

“This weather is disgusting. I’m thinking some hearty stew tonight. What do you think?” I asked my boys.

“No! I want a burger!” my eldest cried out.

Vasily agreed in a happy gurggle, perched in his highchair. What do you expect? You raise your boys to be American they will become fully American.

“Burgers are only for birthday boys. Are you a birthday boy?”

“Yes?” Yuri asked tentatively with a mischievous grin.

“No” I reply unable to fight a grin of my own.

“Mmmm Vasya?”

“Not for quite a few months.”

“UUUUummmmmmm Papa?” 

“Papa had his birthday last week.” 

And every week in secret at the dive bar across the neighborhood.

Yuri scrunched his little face deep in thought. The boy was stumped. Yuri’s concentration was interrupted by the ding of the bell as someone entered our store. I heard our young employee greet our customer unenthusiastically. Much to my husband’s chagrin, I made it a point to have the younger generation begin their life in the working force at our business. The babushka’s would complain on their stoops of how the children no longer understood how to support themselves but never took the time to show them how. I had always been very maternal and it was only natural for me to take the role of neighborhood mother.

“Hi Alexi” a voice responded “Do you know if Mrs Reznikov is here?”

With a sigh, young Alexi sauntered to my table in the back.

“Mr. Caputo.” the young man mumbled

Alexi was working for us for only three weeks as a punishment for trying to steal from our store. I wasn’t a fan of the surly attitude but it was fun catching the teen’s soft side come out when it came to my little ones. I even walked in on the boy singing a folk song to Vasya after a crash from the street startled him.

“Officer Caputo” I corrected “Stock and dust the shelves. You may leave after my approval.”

The boy zipped away with the promise of an early release and I fought a chuckle.

“Good afternoon, Mrs Reznikov.” the officer chirped “It seems as though Jack Frost is coming into town.”

“Who is Jack Frost?” I inquired “Is he a politician?”

The officer chuckled.

“No no it’s a figure of….don’t worry about it. I just wanted to put in an order for those pirozhkis for the boys at the station. I would have asked the young man who was just up here but he uh seems a little….”

“Slow? Yes. Thankfully for him, his prison sentence is almost through and Zara will be back from her vacation tomorrow.”

“You are right to the point, Mrs Reznikov.”

“Wasting time is not a luxury from where I come from.”

“I would imagine.”

Officer Caputo smiled warmly at me. I’m still unsure if the man found me attractive and just pitiful. Either way our moment was broken by the sound of the door bell. I looked up to see Ganya enter along with my husband. The two burley Russians carefully eyed the lanky Italian.

“Gentlemen” the officer greeted curtly

Ganya simply nodded as Dimitri remained unmoved.

“When do you need to order?” I asked in hopes to break the tension.

“Would tomorrow by noon be possible?”

“Yes, of course. I will place it on your tab.”

The officer thanked me and left. The moment the door closed behind him the store emptied of the few stragglers who had not noticed Galya’s entrance right away, even young Alexi knew to sneak out the back. As I made my way to the kitchen to make tea I felt the breath of my husband on the back of my neck.

“Why is he here!?!” Dimitri hissed

“To buy pirozhkis” I replied “That reminds me. We are running low on beef. I need you to run to the butchers tomorrow morning.”

“Galya!” Dimitri hissed once more before turning me to face him “Why is he here!? Why is he buying from OUR store? Why is he talking to YOU!?!”

The accusation stewing underneath his words angered me.

“What I can’t cook!?! I’m not worth speaking to!?!” I hissed back

“He’s the police! He is our enemy!”

“That enemy made sure your youngest made it safely into this world nearly five months ago!”

“This is how they get you! They take advantage of your emotional woman side!”

“Emotion….” I sputtered into a laugh “What are you talking about?”

“Galya. You know police are not your friend. You said yourself. He is talking to you to get to Ganya.”

“Yes. You’re right, moya lyubov. I am just a stupid woman to pity. Who would want my business? Who would want to speak to me? Who would enjoy my cooking?” 

“Gal…”

“….certainly not my husband I never see or the tens of wives in this neighborhood who never speak to me because they are to busy having me taking their orders to even notice I’m a person!” I realize my amusement had left and tears were filling my eyes which angered me and further proved DImitri’s point which angered me even more.

“Galya. I’m sorry.”

Vasya began to fuss, once more agitated by his mother’s yelling. I pinched the bridge of my nose for a moment before walking over to my baby to pick him up.

“Ganya is concerned.” Dimitri explained “We just need to be cautious.”

I was too exhausted to be angry anymore. My sons and the store had me on my feet for long hours. I didn’t have the energy for jealousy and paranoia.

“I can’t exactly tell police not to come to my store” I sighed “But……I’ll stop taking his orders when he comes in. Less talk. Honestly….it’s probably just because of my impressive chest.”

Dimitri smiled and approached me to press his lips to my forehead. 

“You do have an impressive chest.” he agreed”‘We should have another baby so I don’t have to say goodbye to it.”

In a rare moment of sincerity, his large thumb brushed over my cheekbone and we leaned into a gentle kiss.

“Go.” I ordered “I have work to do.”

 

~

 

Ten years. Ten years in this god forsaken prison. I regret every time I complained of not feeling like a person back down the hill. There I was not only a person but a leader. I had a family, I had a kitchen, I had an understanding with the guards. I was restricted but I was a person. 

Here.

Here. I am nothing. I am as lifeless and as grey as the walls around me. I will be seventy when I am released, an old woman, and that is if I can make it that far. 

The shower heads burst into life as another wave of women bustle into the grimy tiled box to wash off another day of incarceration. I find it calming. It is the closest I will ever be to seeing a waterfall. A burst of aquatic gold. Water really is life. The trickle of water is what we crave when we thirst to survive. The splash of water is what we need to be clean. The breaking of water is the signal of life about to begin. It would make sense that perched on a bench, watching a symphony of water, I would be so calm when life feels that it is at its end.

I close my eyes and lean my head back. My calm is squashed when a body plops next to me.

“Dang, Clown. You got legs.” Badison compliments before leaning in to whisper in my ear “I bet you tons of men were asking you to wrap those around them back in the day.”

“Back. Away. Before I rip your tongue out.” I grumble, my eyes still closed.

“Fine. But thought you would want to know that the Queen aint dead and I’m sure you don’t wanna be back in the hole when she returns.”

“What are you talking about?”

“While you were on vacation, turns out Carol was in a coma. My homie down in processing told me she’s coming back in a couple days. Probably meaner than ever.”

“Why are you telling me this?” I ask finally looking over to the brat.

“With her sister dead now all she has to worry about is that Octopus bitch. You’re the right hand man and she will know pretty soon that you had your hands up on Frieda. She’s going to be real pleased with you.”

“Ah…and you want me to put in a good word since you didn’t create the riot of the century.”

“There you go roomie!”

“No.”

“Come on! I got connections.”

“Go away.”

“We’re friends.”

“Go. Away!”

“I helped you out!”

“Hey! She said scram!” the book ripping inmate barks, causing both of us to jump from her sudden appearance.

“Fine!’ Badison huffs “If this is how you treat your friends I can get why you don’t have any.”

Her words cause a distant ache in my heart as I watch the blonde woman storm off.

“Dang, Red” the large inmate says with a sly grin “You got legs for days.”

 

~

“Hi Zara.”

“Privyt.”

“How are you today?”

“Fine. Are you the order of twelve pirozhkis?”

“That I am. Is Mrs Reznikov feeling well today?”

“No. Not today.”

This is the third week I have listened to this conversation. The third time I swear I could feel the officer trying to get a glimpse of me in the back. Each time, the officer would make an appearance so would Ganya with a more scrutinizing gaze. Ganya had barely spoken to me since our kiss and their meetings at the store had become less frequent. Naturally, I feared that somehow we may have signed our death warrant but we know the minute Ganya entered our business, we already did. As each day crept by, the neighborhood took note of the change of attitude within the rulers corner. Suddenly, they were slightly less cocky and slightly less blatant. To the untrained eye, everything went as normal but something had shifted.

The boys were fast asleep upstairs and I had a baby monitor on full volume perched on a bag of flour. I was lost in thought when a hand touched my shoulder. I whipped around to face my intruder as my hand grasped for a knife near by. It was then I was face to face with an equally bewildered Zara.

“I’m so sorry!”

“It…its ok! It’s ok.” I panted “Wha….what do you need?”

“You told me to give you all the tab checks.” the teenager replied waving a white envelope in her hand.

“Oh. Thanks.”

“Sure.”

We stood in silence staring at one another.

“Sooo I finished my shi…”

“Yes! Of course. I will see you tomorrow. Thank you.”

“Great. Uhhh bye.”

With that the young girl placed the envelope in my hand and quickly made her exit.

I thought very little of the envelope until late that night when I was doing the books. I opened the small rectangle to find a check and within the corner, folded into a tiny square was a small piece of paper. Written on it with cramped handwriting was a series of numbers reading:

1117\.   
51288\.   
1476611365.

I have no idea how long I sat there staring at that tiny piece of paper but once I realized what the first line was my heart dropped to my stomach. I realize that within the confines of my life, kindness and friendship comes down to price. The more genuine. The higher the price. Even before I knew what the full message was, I knew that Eddie Caputo had just written a very high price on his head.

11:17 pm, the time Eddie Caputo witnessed my Vasya enter the world and the time Eddie Caputo, unwittingly, began his exit.


	8. I Thought There Would Be Freedom Here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a bit more dialogue driven just fyi. Thanks for the read!

The first arrest happened while we were all sleeping. It was one of Ganya’s nephews. Ganya was very careful when it came to the police but no one was perfect. What was unnerving was the nature of the arrest. It wasn’t the usual public intoxication or random pull over with drugs. It was exact and by the book. Ivan Chernov was awoken by a pounding on his door somewhere in the early hours, they had a warrant and a mission to carry out. He was in handcuffs and out the door in minutes. An hour after Ivan’s arrest, Ganya had gathered his crew in our store.

I thank god my eldest could sleep through an air raid and that my youngest had begun to sleep through the night. 

I rested my head in my hand as I listened for the kettle to boil. I was exhausted and even though I understood the urgency, being roused from a deep sleep I had been denied for months, for yet another meeting put me on edge.

It was clear that the authorities were cracking down and that Ivan would be the first of many to fall. Thankfully, he was born and raised in “the family”. He would never squeal but he would be out of the game for sometime. It was time to regroup, hunker down, investigate and eradicate. They were speaking too rapidly and too quietly for me to pick up the conversation against the rumbling of the kettle. I plucked the tea kettle off the burner before it could even whistle, then it was time to wait for the tea to steep. Numbly, I flipped through our mail pile when a small paper fluttered to the floor. It was the note from Eddie.

I stared at the numbers. I knew the first row was Vasya’s birth time. I continued to stare at the next two rows of numbers. I didn’t think it was any form of morse code. Was it a lock combination? Too long. Was it a specific time? It didn’t make sense. The voices were rising and falling in urgency. I placed the paper in my bathrobe pocket. I tried to make sense on what exactly Eddie was trying to tell me. It was odd for him to be so secretive in his communication. Eddie and I were friends in some form. We shared stories about parenthood and he seemed to enjoy hearing about my life before America. But there is only so much kinship you can build during an order pick up. I was lost in my thoughts until I heard thudding foot steps and a shout.

“Ganya!” a goon called out

“Boss!” another followed.

Suddenly, a hand grasped a chunk of my hair and pulled back. I yelped and suddenly a group of goons surrounded me begging my assailant to cease his actions.

“It was your little friend” Ganya hissed in my ear, tugging at my roots once more.

“Galya!” Dimitri yelped

I noticed my husband lunge towards Ganya, reaching up to pry his hands off me. We lurched sideways as Ganya lifted his foot to slam into Dimitri’s chest and send him flying across the room. Tears leaked from my eyes as my scalp burned. He wasn’t going to let up. No conventional attempt would work on him. He could see them coming a mile away. 

So I surprised him.

My hand left my head. I snaked my arm behind me, between us. I found his crotch and gripped it. He froze.

“If you’re going to pull my hair” I hissed “Do it right!”

We stood like that for a moment longer before he released my hair and shoved me forward. The table caught me, knocking the wind out of me. The force of my weight sent a couple mugs to fall to the ground and shatter. Dimitri appeared beside me and wrapped his arm around my shoulders.

“Are you alright?” he asked in a hurried whisper

I didn’t respond. I was still in shock. We turned back to the brooding man to see his goons trying to lead him out of the kitchen. 

“Right way….disgusting woman! If I find out you’ve talked…” he growled “You will watch your husband die. You will watch your boys die. I will have my way with you until you beg to die!”

He exited the kitchen and the store. As he always did. Dropping an atomic bomb on our family and leaving like nothing had happened. I was young but even then I had grown so tired of arrogant men and their rough hands. I was already so sick of it all. 

Hot tears blurred my vision. I heaved a sob as I slowly crumpled to the floor. Dimitri held me as I sobbed like a child. He cradled my head against his broad chest. He stroked my hair and though my scalp still burned, I welcomed it. My fingers gripped his shirt, the tighter I gripped, the closer he would hold me in his embrace. 

“Oh my sweet Galya” he cooed into my hair “My sweet sweet girl.”

That’s all he could say. Even he knew there was no point for apologies or placation. We were both trapped. We were both criminals willing or not. We were never safe no matter how much we liked to kid ourselves.

 

~  
The wind whipped and danced about me as I trudged my way to the designated destination. My cheeks burnt from the bitter winter air and I regretted even exiting my home as I placed one foot in front of the other. Once more, I checked the numbers on the sheet of paper I had clutched in my numb hand. I stoped and looked up to what was to be my destination. The home is small and unassuming. There was pride in the appearance. Despite the snow it was clear the paint job was carefully applied, especially the trim. The white picket fence matched perfectly with the light yellow two story home. I trudged up the gate and paused to examine my surroundings. The neighborhood was quiet and cozy. There was an American flag hanging from nearly every home. I almost felt as though I was standing in a postcard. Suddenly, a wave of unease washed over my annoyance. I know where I don’t belong.

I clicked open the gate and made my way up the walk way. My trek was slow to avoid slipping and it was enough time for the door to open before I could even approach it to knock.

“Mrs Reznikov?” Eddie called out

“Yes” I replied 

“You figured it out.” He exclaimed happily

“Yes. Yes. You should work on your penmanship. You write like a drunk chicken.”

“My mother would agree” he replied “Did you come alone?”

I gave the man an incredulous look when we were finally face to face on the porch.

“Do you have tea?” I asked

“Just coffee.”

“Good.” I reply as I pushed my way past him “I can’t feel my limbs.”

The home was heaven with a stove furnace roaring with gusto and I was thankful. 

“Let me take your coat.”

“Is your son…”

“Joey is at an away game. I assume he will be gone over night considering the weather.”

“Your wife?”

“With Joey.”

I struggled to undo my laces with frozen digits but managed to remove my footwear. I stood to see Eddie watching me. He examined me for a moment.

“Are you well?” his question sincere and soft

“I’m fine.”

He continued to examine, unconvinced.

“I have not been followed.” I clarify

He says nothing before he turned and led me to the kitchen. 

“I only have Folgers.”

“I don’t care.”

We situate ourselves at the kitchen table, we swapped updates on the boys and I share what recipies I had been dreaming up as we waited for the water to boil. Once our coffee cups were full and steaming before us the conversation shifts.

“Are you well?” he asked once more

“Why am I here?”

“I haven’t seen very much of you lately.”

“A store, two babies and husband keeps me busy. I don’t have a lot of time for socializing.”

“You know you’re not the only busy person in the world. I have stuff too you know.”

“Like what? Scratch butt in front of TV all day and spend hour in the bathroom doing god knows what?”

“Not all day. I scratch my butt outdoors as well. I know you’re busy but you still managed to save five minutes of your time to talk the past five months. Then suddenly nothing. Whats up?”

“Can’t I just be busy?”

“You once held an entire conversation with me about bouquets while balancing a bin for Vasily to puke into and rotate a pan of pirozhkis in the oven all at the same time. It was…impressive to say the least.”

“I admit. I am very impressive.”

“So Mrs. Impressive, why the cold shoulder? Did I offend you?”

“No….no.”

“Did I scare you?”

“Don’t kid yourself.”

He watched me for a long moment and I couldn’t find the words to explain myself from under his watch. He leaned back and sighed. I looked down into the depths of my coffee cup.

“Did someone else scare you?” He asked softly.

I didn’t bother to look up. I continued to stare and felt the ghost of Ganya’s hands tearing at my roots. I missed my friend Nadezhda. Before she disappeared she would tell me stories of her last date when we would walk home from work, sore and dejected. She would have funny little philosophies in how to deal with men. She would pretend to find my innocence when it came to men annoying but I could tell she enjoyed being my guide. I wonder what she would say about Ganya and about this chubby American man pestering me for not saying hello more.

“I guess you can tell that your store is not near where I live.” He continued “Your store is a good forty minute drive from where I work. Actually, there is a pastry shop two blocks down from where I work. The boys always tease me and ask me why don’t I just go there. I actually catch a lot of shit for it. But you know why I go across kingdom come to go get some pastries that do nothing for my arteries?”

“Because you’re in love with your car?”

“I wanna see my friend.” 

I look up to see if he was being truthful. He was.

“I wanna talk to my friend and have her tease me about my hat hair. I wanna see my friend teach young kids what a work ethic is. I wanna see my friend’s sons play and watch them grow up being raised by the best mom in the world. But my friend has been avoiding me and I’m feeling its because someone told her to. Someone who could hurt her if she didn’t”.

The honesty within the man’s words had surprised me into a moment of silence. He was kind and his kindness brought in a warmth into the air that I was unfamiliar with.

“What am I supposed to do with that speech?” I finally ask “What are you expecting from me?”

“I want you to trust me.”

“Why?”

“Because a bomb is about to be dropped on your life and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Is that a threat?”

“No. Its fact…..and a warning.”

“What do you want in return?”

He leaned in slightly as he attempted to catch my gaze.

“I want to protect you and your family.”

“You’re not answering my question.”

He gave me a long look as he leaned back in his chair. Realization washed over me.

“You want information.” I state

“We’ve been building a case for some years now. Ganya is well known for what he does. I’ve been studying him. I know a lot about him.”

I knew Dimitri would be so pleased knowing he was right.

“You know nothing of Ganya and his capabilities.” I say, brushing away a strand of hair and pretending not to wince from my still tender scalp.

“I know enough. I know you didn’t exactly choose to have your store taken over by gang members.”

“No, but they take care of us.”

“They don’t kill you. How kind.”

I couldn't help but smile at his sarcasm.

“Listen, I don’t know everything, as much as you like to think I pretend to.” He continued “I know that this is your family and that means a lot to you.”

“Family is everything.”

“I know. I know and I really respect that. But I have to ask….how great is family when all it does is hurt you?”

“Why are you so fixated on someone hurting me? What do you know?”

“I can’t tell you exactly.”

“Why?”

“Its protocol”

“To hell with it!”

“It doesn’t work that way!”

I let out a frustrated groan as I pinch the bridge of my nose.

“Ok.” I said evenly “I…I will ask questions. You answer or you tell me to fuck off.”

“Seriously?”

“You do the same. We take turn.”

“Fine.”

“Did you arrest Ivan?”

“Yes. Did you really come alone?”

“Yes. Will there be more arrests?”

“Yes. Are you working for Ganya?”

“…….Fuck off.”

“That sounds like a yes.”

“That’s not a question.”

“Do you feel safe going home?”

“Yes. Will my husband be arrested?”

“Fuck off. Have you ever hidden anything for Ganya?”

“No. Are you close to arresting Ganya?”

“Closer than before. Do you know Ganya’s next move?”

“No one knows Ganya’s next move.” I snorted

“Is there a way you can find out?” Eddie asked leaning in. “Could you if I helped you?”

It was then I finally noticed the odd way he would lurch his body towards me when asking a probing question. I leaned back in my chair. My heart sank.

I admit I looked forward to Eddies arrivals at our store. I tried to think of questions to ask him about when he stepped to the counter. He was a friendly face. A confidant. When he asked how I was doing it seemed he really wanted to know. That had been a luxury I had been denied when I left my home country. 

“Is the table bugged or is it on you?”

He froze.

“Fuck off.” He said softly

“That sounds like a yes”

My eyes prickled with tears. His did as well.

“You brought me to the ambulance, held my hand, visited me at the hospital. You know more about my sons than my husband does. You told me stories about your failed dates and your mother teaching you how to dance. You showed me Aretha Franklin.” I paused “Was it all for…..this….this case? For Ganya?”

A silence settled over us and it looked as though Eddie desperately wanted to say no. He just looked at me, slightly opening his mouth and then closing it. 

America was a dream. A dream filled with an abundance of food and education. A dream where we could be free of a watchful eye. I could laugh easily and love freely. My home would be completely mine. I would owe nothing and own everything. I lied for this dream. I bled for this dream. I cried for this dream. Every day I’m realizing exactly what I feared, it was exactly what it was, a dream. Just a dream.

“I thought there would be freedom here” I croaked

With that I stood and exited his house as quickly as possible, ignoring Eddies pleas to stay and talk. 

In a period of twelve hours I had been attacked, lied to and taken advantage of. That would have been a perfect time to breakdown and lose all sense of hope. It was then I realized that I couldn’t rely on the world around me to create the freedom I dreamt of. I knew I had to crawl in the dirt to make a freedom of my own. I changed course, dried my eyes and straightened my shoulder. I arrived at my destination with a new resolve.

I knocked on the door twice. 

The door cracked.

“A nice day for some fish.” I stated

The door opened and I entered a foyer of lounging goons. They stood in surprise.

“What can we do for you, Little Bird?” A gruff looking goon leered by the doorway

“I wish to speak to Ganya….alone.”

I thought there would be freedom here.


	9. Give Me A Name

I entered into the living room without asking, more beer bottles, more body odor, more baritone laughter. Their sound would fade away when I entered the room. Then those smiles. Sickingly sweet. Disgustingly smug.

“What are you doing walking into a den of the deplorable hmmm?” A goon asked as he approached me.  
His breath reeked of a distillery and ego.

“Is Ganya here?” I asked

The room erupted in laughter. I fought to not roll my eyes.

“He’s busy.” Another called from across the room “But we can keep you busy.”

A few whistled. Placing a hand on my hip I gave him a once over.

“You can keep me busy?” I asked suggestively

“Oh yes.”

“How? Fedor Maximovich the only way you ever kept me busy was soiling yourself in my store as you did when you were three or perhaps you can keep me busy by crying about burning your tongue with hot tea in my kitchen as you did when you were eight!”

The boys howled in laughter as Fedor’s pale cheeks turned crimson. 

“It seems the little bird has bested you!” The first man howled.

“Little bird?” A voice asked as a new body entered from the back.

Silence fell as Ganya addressed the faces in the room with a stoney glare. I held my breath as his gaze fell on mine. His expression unreadable.

“She wished to speak to you.” The man who had coined my little nickname informed.

“Alone.” I added.

Ganya paused for a moment. Mulling over my request.

“We’re out of food.” He said quietly. Not breaking his gaze.

At first I thought he was demanding I cooked or insulting my presence in the sea of men. Until suddenly, without another word, the gentlemen gathered themselves quickly. They exited the home, leaving us standing alone in an empty living room.

“I should say I’m surprised but this seems something fiery Galya would do.”

I didn’t reply. His demeanor softened slightly.

“This morning…”

“I don’t care.” I interrupted “I’m not here for that.”

His lip quirked, the only indication of his surprise.

“How long have you been investigated?” I asked dropping my purse on the ground and taking a seat on the couch. 

“Years.” He replied taking a seat on the coffee table in front of me and crossing his arms. He made sure to appear big and I wanted to laugh.

“That’s how long you've known or how long they’ve investigated you?”

“Why?”

“You are powerful. You are feared. Good. But you are cocky.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. Thankfully, that might be your save because the police are cocky too. They are cocky enough that you still have a chance but they are holding back enough that they have something on you.”

Galya smirked, amused but surprisingly engaged.

“What do you suggest?”

“You poison the lamb before the feast.”

He nodded thoughtfully. It’s clear that was what the deal would be.

“Who do you suggest?”

“Me.”

Finally, his shock was evident. He moved to sit beside me.

“Not yet of course. We will need a couple hot button names to drag this out a couple more years, drain their money, their resources. Flub a couple robberies. Shoot your target off just a hair. As you exhausted them, running your circles, build off of what you have. You’re no longer a refugee. Stop thinking like one. Stop shaking up transported peasants, we have nothing left to give you….”

He opened his mouth to speak but I placed my finger tips against his lips to silence him. A fire flickered in his eyes. I leaned in.

“….your reserves are dry but your fear isn’t. The neighborhood is set. Your name is known. Now you need more. Don’t you want more?”

His breath hitched. I could feel it against my finger tips. In a moments notice he pulled me onto his lap. I rolled my hips.

“So much more…” he groaned

We had ached for one another for years. We had a darkness brewing just beneath the surface. He was never a good man but I was never a perfect woman.

“I’m sick of feeling helpless, Galya. You’re sick of wanting.”

He growled. His hands roamed across the expanse of my skin. 

“I don’t want a title. No one needs to know my name. You could use someone like that.”

He was wavering. He was unsure but I had him where I wanted him. I ground myself against him as I did once with a pseudo rebel in a sea of denim. He was peeling away my clothing. I allowed the heat to build.

“You know you want this” I groaned “You know you need more.”

Even now I blush at that gaudy display of desperation but it worked like a charm. Soon I was slammed back onto the couch with Galya having his way. We answered to our hunger and not a single word had to be spoken. The plan was rough but the deal was made. No I would not I have the life I had dreamed of but that dream died that day. A new plan. A new hope and a new resilience was born.

~

“All rise!”

We stood in unison. The shackles at my ankles pinched as my lawyer hauled me up as graciously as a nervous twenty three year old could. To be fair, he really was trying his best with the case of a mafia accomplice with a mother’s face thrown in his lap by the state. Of course, if I wasn’t taking the fall for Ganya the goons would have hooked me up with a top sleazy lawyer in their rolodex. Sadly, that wasn’t an option for me.

“Remember” he whispered “You’re a mother. You’re a victim of systematic oppression from your home country and the mafia. The judge knows that.”

The judge shuffled in. He looked like a discount President Nixon with his graying wisps of hair, bright red nose and prominent jowls. His rob billowed about his large frame as he stepped up to his thrown.

“You may be seated.”

“Maybe if we tell him you’re pregnant last minute….” he muttered to himself

“I have felt a little queasy in the mornings.” I replied

“Really?”

“No.”

The judge cleared his throat after slurping from his styrofoam coffee cup. He flipped through his paper work as the courtroom settled into place. Finally, he peered over the reading spectacles placed low on his stubby nose.

“This is the sentencing hearing for the case of……The People vs Galina Reznikov. Mrs Reznikov, how do you plead?”

Once more I was yanked up onto my feet. I could feel the eyes of my husband and couple of Ganya’s goons boring holes into the back of my head. It was a moment I had been preparing for but it didn’t make it any easier. I took in a deep breath and quietly said goodbye to the world as I knew it.

“Guilty.” I stated, sadly, my voice shook. 

The judge simply nodded.

“I hear by sentence you to fifteen years in the Litchfield Minimum State Security Female State Penitentiary. You must serve eighty percent of your sentence to be eligible for parol. Do you understand Mrs Reznikov?”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“You seem like a lovely woman Mrs Reznikov and observing the behavior of your children a damn good mother. I’m sorry that the choices that had been made by you and for you had brought you here.”

“….Th….thank you, Your Honor.” I replied.

He had been a brick wall throughout my sentencing process, no emotion. It was then, a moments breath from being carted away forever, did I see a softness to the man. He pitied me. I wonder if I resemble a daughter or a sister in his life. I hope for a moment, I reminded him that the criminals he made decisions for every day were still indeed humans. We used the immigrant mother angle heavily and the fact I had nice white suburban mom features helped as well. Anyone else would have been carted to Max. We did our best. The judge assumed I was a helpless soul making poor decisions. He thought he had taught me justice and kindness in one fell swoop. How little did he know that he was simply a piece of a plan crafted nearly a decade prior.

~

“You have to give them a name. A good one.” I said before taking a long sip of water

“They already had Ivan and Pavel.” Ganya replied as he played with a stand of my hair

His bedroom was surprisingly bleak for the King of Criminals. His sheets were delightful, a high thread count and still warm from a session of vigorous love making. I was parched from a good workout and he was smug from a good lay.

“Those idiots?” I snorted “They are sweet but not exactly high on the food chain. You have to make them think they are in the inner circle. That they are on your tail.”

Ganya rubbed his face and grunted.

“So we need someone who thinks they are my trusted one.” He replied “Someone long term. The new ones get too chatty too fast.”

I hummed in agreement.

“I know a guy who’s been around for a few good years. Not very bright but useful.”

“Who?”

He looked up at me with devilish grin and a boyish twinkle in his eye. I swatted his chest.

“Stop suggesting Dimitri. You promised.”

“I know. I know.” He chuckled “But then I could have his wife all to myself.”

“She’s already in your bed! Isn’t that all you men want?”

“Mostly.”  
“Mostly?”

“We like control.”

“I am not the one to be controlled.”

“Oh I know. That’s what makes you the best challenge.”

We smiled at one another.

“A name” I demanded, not wanting to fall back into temptation when I still had to scurry home to my boys.

“…..Dima.”

“The postman’s wife? Why her?”

“She’s talks loud but knows little. We give her big secrets she doesn't understand but it will lead to her husband.”

“You will lose a good ally. Are you ready?”

“In a few weeks time.”

“You’ll have to give her a few easy morsels as well. Easier to swallow the harsher news.”

“Like what?”

“Someone lost all their money or someone is having an affair. Easy words.”

“Your turn. Give me a name.”

I pondered for a moment. It was a name I’ve had in my pocket from the moment I entered the lion's den but it didn’t make it easier. I thumbed the brim of the cup as his knuckles grazed across the curvature of my breast.

“Caputo.” I said softly “Eddie Caputo.”


End file.
